


Breaking Point

by Mystic_Harley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Harley/pseuds/Mystic_Harley
Summary: Everyone has their breaking point, and during his second year, Harry Potter finally reached his.





	Breaking Point

The whispers were eating him alive. Harry curled his hand into a fist, breaking his quill in the process. Again. It felt like second nature to him again. He stared at the broken remnants of his quill, ink dripping onto his parchment. 

He blinked at it, as if unfamiliar with what had happened before his brain finally registered what had happened. A weary sigh left his lips, this was the 5th time he had broken his poor quill. Very gently, he pulled out his wand and muttered a quick reparo on it, the feather easily snapping back into place and looking perfect, as usual. 

The boy eyed the parchment cautiously, the ink stains didn't look that bad. He could probably still finish his essay. He'd have Hermione check it later...

Oh. Right. His heart tightened in his chest as he blinked rapidly. Hermione wasn't there, she was in the hospital wing, with a frozen look of fear on her face and he still didn't know what had caused it. 'Follow the spiders,' what the hell did that mean?

Harry was so lost in thought, he blindly groped out with his quill. He realized just a fraction too late before the inkwell shattered, coating the carpet in ink. "Great..." 

Swearing a little under his breath using words he learned from his uncle, Ron, and the gnomes at the Burrow, he muttered another 'Reparo' and the inkwell shot back up onto the table. He couldn't do much about the ink on the carpet though.

Inwardly he was glad Ron hadn't said anything yet, he could already feel his blood boiling at the idea that this minor mistake would somehow be considered evidence against him that he was indeed responsible for the attacks. 

'The Dark Wizard, Harry Potter: stainer of carpets.' He snorted bitterly to himself at the thought, pushing his chair out a little to get up for another bottle of ink when the sharp sound of several other chairs scraping against the stone floor assaulted his ears.

He didn't need to look up to know that pretty much everyone in the room just scooted away from him. Harry stared down at the table, his breathing shallower than he had remembered. Why was everything so tight? 

"Gits..." He heard Ron mutter, patting Harry on the arm. Whether he noticed how tense his friend was, he didn't comment on it. "Just ignore it mate, we'll sort things out."

"Just ignore it?" Harry asked quietly, and he swore he heard something snap inside of him. "How much more can I ignore Ron?" He swallowed thickly, feeling his face strain from the intense scowl on his face. 

Ron shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable and unsure. The angry side that was slowly taking over was gleeful at his reaction. "Just, we'll figure something out, okay?"

He heard muttering behind him, whatever self control that was slipping away began crumbling to ashes. "I didn't ask for this," he said, and the entire room hushed. The rational side of his brain had told him that he was louder than intended.

Ron frowned, mulling over this statement. "I know you didn't."

"Do you? Do you REALLY?" Harry challenged. "I didn't ask for  _ any _ of this! Hagrid? Gone! Dumbledore? Gone! Hermione? GONE! All of the petrifications, all of the staring, all of the whispers. All of the IDIOTS," he seethed, slamming a fist against the table, only vaguely aware of how badly he was trembling. "First year! No one believed us about the stone and look what happened! We were nearly killed, I was nearly killed! And the stupid snake incident! Did you know I didn't even know Parseltongue was even a  _ thing _ until recently? Did any of you know that? DID ALL OF YOU FORGET I WAS RAISED BY BIGOT MUGGLES WHO HATE MAGIC?"

Harry knew he was shouting now, but he found he didn't quite care as he turned to the common room at large, tears welled in his eyes. "No! You didn't did you?! Why? Because you all don't really give a  _ shit _ about me, just the fact 'I'm famous'. You just hear things about me and because 'Oh well Harry Potter! He's famous! He  _ somehow _ defeated the most powerful dark lord in the century' obviously, that means I'm some sort of lich!"

He took a deep, hissing breath of air, and roughly wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Well I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for my best friend to be petrified, I didn't ask for my damn scar, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for ANY OF THIS!" 

The inkwell exploded again, and Harry slammed his fists down roughly against the desk, his voice reaching shrill octaves. " _ WHY CAN'T YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!? _ " With a final, anguished scream, Harry burst into tears. His loud, ugly sobs filled the stunned common room as Ron wrapped a silent arm around his best friend. Harry buried his face in his hands, leaning into Ron's touch as his sobbing grew louder.

Hugging him closer, Ron gave a dirty glare to the occupants of the common room before gently leading Harry out. The staircases swung silently, helping guide Ron towards their head of house's office. Every once in a while he'd pet Harry's shaking shoulders, his crying not slowing down in ferocity or volume since he started.

Unwilling to detach himself from Harry, Ron pushed open the door to her classroom with a small grunt. Even though the transfiguration teacher didn't have class, Ron wouldn't have cared if he barged in on one. This was more important.

"Almost there." He said quietly. The red-head's heart ached painfully as Harry shuddered and clung to him, his crying only dimming slightly. Ron knew he wasn't Hermione, and he'd never be Hermione. She was better at this than him, but he wasn't going to do nothing for his best friend. He would be there no matter what.

Lifting his free arm, he knocked awkwardly on Professor McGonagall's door. After a brief silence, Ron realized that it was very possible she wasn't even at her office. Panic washed over him, if she wasn't there, then he'd have absolutely no idea what to do. When the door swung open, he let out the breath he was holding.

His head of house pursed her lips a little. "And to what do..." She trailed off the instant she saw Harry, and stood aside. "In," she commanded.

They obeyed, Ron pulling Harry into Professor McGonagall's office. The door shut with a sharp click, and instantly a giant cushy armchair appeared in front of them. Ron sat down, Harry burying himself against his fellow Gryffindor's body as the teacher sat in front of them. Worry and concern was etched on her features. 

"What happened, Mr. Weasley?" At first he was taken aback, he had never heard her use such a gentle tone before. 

"H-He. He uh...he..." Ron stammered, clearly at a loss for words. "He... _broke_. Professor."

"Broke?"

Her student bobbed his head. "Yeah. He er, broke. I guess. Things got too much for him, I reckon. I think." Shame and concern flashed across his face. Why wasn't Hermione here?

McGonagall was silent for a long time, simply watching Harry as his crying lessened into soft sobbing and hiccuping. "I believe, that Mr. Potter will not be able to attend classes for the rest of the day, nor tomorrow. I shall give him and yourself a pass for the day, consider yourself lucky Mr. Weasley, it is rare students get a 4 day weekend."

Whatever Ron was feeling, it clearly wasn't lucky. He gave a serious and curt nod. "Thank you Professor." He turned his attention back to Harry, mumbling what he hoped was quiet assurances to his friend. 

Standing, the professor walked over to her fireplace and threw a pinch of what Ron could only identify as Floo Powder into it. "The Infirmary! Poppy! Poppy Pomfrey!"

The medi-witch's face appeared in the flames, and Ron almost snorted at the annoyed tone in her voice. "This had better be an emergency Minerva."

"It is," she replied gravely, looking back over at her young lion. "I want you to come to my office now, Poppy. This is important." She held her hand up when Madame Pomfrey opened her mouth. "This isn't a petrification. But you need to come. Now." 

"Alright. I'll be right there," Madam Pomfrey's face disappeared, and silence fell for a brief moment before the fireplace roared to live and the Hogwarts Medi-Witch stepped out of the emerald flames, brushing the ashes from her robes. "Alright Minerva, what's the problem?"

McGonagall motioned over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, and Ron could see the elder witch's face fall, and she grew a similar expression that his head of house had earlier. "Oh..."

"I didn't feel it wise to bring him up to you. Mr. Potter...Harry, had what I can only describe as a mental breakdown." McGonagall tsked a bit. "I can't say I didn't see this coming, what with everything going on for the poor lad."

Carefully approaching Ron and Harry, Madame Pomfrey knelt down so she was eye-level with them. Her eyes never left Harry's shaking frame, and her voice was deathly quiet. "Mr. Weasley, can you tell me exactly what happened?"

Ron gulped, and the words tumbled out of his mouth as he desperately tried to recall what just happened. "He just. I said something. Something stupid, obviously."

Harry gave a noise of objection, but whatever he meant to say it was garbled and unintelligible. Ron's ears turned pink. "Anyways, after that he...he just...started yelling. Like, proper yelling. Like my Mum when she's really mad at the twins. His voice got all shrill at the end too. Then..." He petered off, motioning to his best friend's current state.

Poppy's lips pursed, and Ron thought it was a very good impression of Professor McGonagall, maybe they practiced in the mirror. "I see...thank you Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter?" Harry made another noise to indicate he was listening. "Have you eaten today?"

Harry shook his head in a jerky motion. "Then, would you object to having an early start to lunch?" He was still for a moment, before another jerky shake of the head. "Excellent. Would you mind if we went outside? I think the air is much too stuffy in the castle right now."

Finally, a bloodshot and tear-stained face looked at her. He croaked at her. "Ron stays."

"Of course he does. If you'd like anyone else to come, just say the word." 

Harry's eyes darted between his head of house, the medi-witch, and Ron. "I'd...like for Professor McGonagall to come with us...and Ron's brothers and sister." 

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "I'll be sure to tell them. Professor McGonagall?" The head of house was already sweeping her cloak over her, silently and curtly nodding at her. "You'll get your food shortly Mr. Potter, anything in particular you'd like."

"Treacle Tart?" His voice was so quiet and hoarse she almost didn't catch that.

"His favorite dessert." McGonagall supplied, and the nurse made a mental note for extra tarts. "Shall we be off boys? I expect the rest of your ilk to arrive shortly, Mr. Weasley."

Ron gave a small grunt, but said nothing else as he and Harry lifted off the chair and out of her office towards the grounds. McGonagall said nothing, trailing her students and looking around. She looked like a particularly ferocious cat, ready to pounce on anyone who dare try and stop them. 

The small group made their way out to the grounds, and when they reached the tree near the Black Lake, the head of house pulled out her wand and started waving it in a complicated pattern Ron didn't recognize. 

Instantly, a large picnic blanket appeared in front of them. She couldn't help the satisfied smile at her students' gawking. "There, I believe that will be sufficient enough for our little eat out, don't you think?"

Ron nodded dumbly, and nearly jumped out of his skin as one of his twin brothers clapped him on the shoulder. "Brilliant work, Professor McGonagall!" One of them started.

"Amazing!"

"Astute!"

"Magnetizing."

The other twin, Ron identified as George, leaned over on Harry's side. "Heard you were having a bad day. We'll make sure that Percy is on his best behavior."

Fred nodded, beaming a little too widely. "We told him we'd hex him back home if he started something." That managed to get a small smile from Harry, and Ron snorted at his other brother's offended scoff.

"Honestly, I'm not that tactless..." He muttered to himself. Ron noticed that Ginny was clutching her diary tightly as they all took their seats on the extra large blanket. Professor McGonagall snapped her fingers sharply, and instantly a delicious looking meal for them all was placed in front of them. Ron noticed with some satisfaction that there was extra treacle tart there.

Grabbing a plate, Harry tentatively loaded his plate with food, and although he didn't say anything, a small warm smile was on his face as the conversation buzzed around him. Ron kept on eye on him, and deep down he knew that Harry would take a while to recover from this.

He was fine with that though, Harry could take as long as he needed. Once Hermione was cured, then she could help him too.

Harry would be okay, Ron would make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this, I'll update 7 Engines this week, I promise. I needed to write this though, it's been gnawing at me to get it done.


End file.
